<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>All We Do by kormanine</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759103">All We Do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormanine/pseuds/kormanine'>kormanine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies), Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Spirit World</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:20:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormanine/pseuds/kormanine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Anna Delle can see spirits without having to believe in them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anna (Disney)/Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the case of the missing winter spirits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jack Frost—Bringer of Hellwinter—has three visits he needs to make tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something with a striking resemblance to fun has been steadily growing over the frost-coated horizon of his immortal life, and Jack feels like pouncing on the opportunity before it gets him with his back turned. He doesn't socialize with other spirits as much as one would expect from a guy like him, and he's not about to start now. He hasn't visited Pitch in about, what, seven years? Eight? For spirits, that's not a long time; that's almost haphazard to Jack's loner status. But he's not staying long, and hopefully he wouldn't have to come back in at least five decades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's standing above the broken, haunted-looking bed frame, as it stands decrepit in the epicenter of the forest, where the trees break into a clearing, almost like they're frightened of the Boogeyman themselves. He's forgotten how a dark little hole in the ground could actually look kind of cozy—to him, at least. Cozy, like how sleep is cozy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Only there's nightmares.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, Pitch, you got a moment?!" he yells into the darkness, hands cupped around his mouth. A few birds nearby are startled, a cacophony of flapping wings breaking way into the sky. He laughs to himself a bit, letting down his hands as he twirls his staff in one. "I know you're down there—I mean, no offense, but it's kinda obvious you don't get much sunlight."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Could say the same for you, Frost," a voice, notably female (and British—he still wonders about that), says behind him. He turns to see Pitch's devil child leaning against a tree, a shadow in the growing dusk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack frowns, sighing in frustration because he really doesn't want to stretch this visit. "Your dad gonna come out of his hide-y hole, Em?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fortunately, father is out." Emily smirks, making her way towards him. "He's been out for a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Emily must have been keeping watch on this place. He would've challenged her position as anything more than a watchdog in Pitch's web of strange relationships and connections if he didn't come here for information . . . which is usually the case about nine times out of ten, the one time being a wild card—maybe a midnight conversation at the one hundred year point existential crisis.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How long is a while?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"About forty hours now. Won't be back soon. Sorry." She shrugs and smiles. "You may leave."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack rests his staff on his shoulder and thinks, his tongue in his cheek. He wants the information that he came for and now he's starting to weigh on how much he needs it. He lets out a huff. "Can you ask your dad something when he gets back?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's in it for me?" It's not even a joke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How about not freezing all the nightmares to black spotted windshield frost."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And then I'll pay you back by not putting you in a nightmare infested coma that'll drive your brain into immeasurably abundant amounts of insanity until you're bleeding from your eyeballs, which will all come back to you owing me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack shrugs. "I'll be dead."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And heaven forbid the Man in the Moon revive you again."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It's funny, because sometimes the Pitchiners really get ahead of themselves—dream sand isn't something they could conjure up on a whim, only the Sandman has that type of power. Hell, they basically steal the material from the Guardian himself and poison it. Long story short, the coma thing is worth challenging—that being said from Jack's daring, detrimental perspective.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Facing the night sky, he shakes his head, biting the inside of his lip and he lets his strained smile drop. He doesn't want to believe that the small Pitchiner bloodline actually has physical effects of fear upon anyone who dare approach them; that just being in their presence—aware or not of their power—causes shivers and speeding heartbeats and trembling and fear. But, now? It's honestly hard to tell. "Look, you know anything about the winter spirits going missing?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emily's eyebrows raise in slight interest, and she crosses her arms. "Why? You afraid it might happen to you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Actually, I just got a reputation to protect. All spirits know about the Ice Queen myth, and if this is some foreshadow-thing that's she's making some kind of appearance any time soon, my title of Bringer of Winter has gotta stay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hellwinter, actually. Also, you forgot Your Local Neighborhood Jackass, that's a title you've worked hard to get, no?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just answer the question."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emily has the faintest look of surprise, taking a step back to one up Jack, her arms still crossed. A biting comeback is on the tip of her tongue . . . only she can hear heartbeats (comes with the whole sensing fear thing) and Jack's is a bit too fast, a bit too frantic and irregular. He's definitely not his usual calm. Her mouth is open like a gaping fish, but she swallows the sarcastic comment down and nods her head in consideration. "I may know a few things."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, things are getting somewhere, and Jack doesn't say anything in hopes of not starting another useless back-and-forth sarcasm play fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The . . . urban legend of the Ice Queen—she was the first one to go missing, and back then other spirits didn't even know there be would be a first. That was hundreds of years ago, before you were reborn. Suddenly, five winter spirits go missing in the last month and honestly, Jack, there's nothing that can even remotely point to some kind of correlation other than the fact that they're winter spirits—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Say there was a correlation, somehow."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Bloody hell." This isn't how she would want to waste her time on a Sunday night, but, hey, it won't kill her. Not a lot of things can. "If there was some theoretical connection . . . theoretically there's someone out there who doesn't like winter spirits. All those years, well: they go dormant, only wanting the Ice Queen, and if we're going based on how powerful the Ice Queen supposedly was—since that's seemingly why she's so popular in the first place—maybe it's a power thing. But, honestly, the fact that every spirit even entertains the idea that the Ice Queen existed and is possibly still out there? It's bloody idiotic."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Em—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Those winter spirits could be dead." She says it so easily, so indifferently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Spirits don't like to talk about the fact that they could die. It makes the whole immortal concept look like a debatable stretch. Adds vulnerability, panic, all the things that the Pitchiner bloodline absolutely love to toy with.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And you could be dead with them, Frosty. And as much as the idea doesn't sound entirely horrid, it's my advice that you do not dig into business you may regret being part of. Do what most winter spirits would do: stay away from fire, heaters, spicy food—you know this, I'm sure."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(You have got to be kidding.) "Tell me that's not all you know. There's gotta be something, anything that isn't obvious . . . !"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heartbeat isn't calming . . . what's wrong, Jack? "Okay, well, someone out there doesn't like winter spirits and I think . . . that person could be a winter spirit themselves."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently stunned, Jack just blinks at that, and nods slowly for her to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I mean, think about it, other spirit groups aren't talking, and that's simply because they don't know anything. This is in the winter spirit community alone. You're a bloody asshole, but you don't socialize a lot in general, so I don't know how involved you are in this. But the fact that all you're worried about is your title gives me the idea that the ice kingdom isn't very friendly." She tilts her head, amusement in her eyes. "And you're the king, aren't you, Frost?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack sighs when that clicks in his head. He stuffs a hand in his sweater pocket and nods his head in thought, brows drawn together. He's in that state for a calm few seconds until he rolls his neck, irritated. "Tch. Crap."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emily shrugs indifferently. "Eh. You seem considerably screwed. My advice—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't need your advice," he says, and walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine, you were scaring the birds, anyway—hey, you owe me now!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Despite the lack of answer, he knows. And he's not happy about that.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's not until he's in the air in a flurry of snowflakes that it hits her. His heartbeat, his panic—of course—he wouldn't act like that if he were only considering himself. Huh. Maybe he really does have a heart under all that frost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the case of the secret garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cold wind spills through the slightly open window and washes through Jamie's bedroom, and while Pippa complains about hypothermia, Jamie is more concerned about the white-haired spirit behind the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack had meant to go to the lake right after-honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But sometimes he doesn't pay enough attention when he's flying and sometimes anxiety leads him to do things he'd never intended on doing, so when he ends up at Jamie's window instead of going straight to Burgess Lake, he seriously wants to punch himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna see if my mom needs any help with the food," Jamie tells his friends (and Pippa frustratedly makes the effort close the window herself).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out in the hall, Jack opens the window by the stairwell and slips through, wind twirling around him before dispatching him on his own bare feet. Jamie makes sure his bedroom door is closed before walking up to Jack. "Hey, what happened with Yuki?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's hard to make eye contact with all this stupid guilt in his chest, so he leans his head on his staff, wood digging into his temple. ". . . Didn't go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophie doesn't have many friends. Instead of having a back-to-school-oh-no-summer's-over party like her older brother, she rather help her mom set up the food for all eight people. The kitchen smells of tacos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sophie turns to get more plates for the living room coffee table, she spots Jamie and a certain winter spirit making their way downstairs. The only times they ever come down to the couch is when they've actually got to sit down and talk about things. Sophie doesn't usually stick around when these things happen, too preoccupied in happy things like glittery stickers, her leaf collection, listening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Regrettes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, things like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophie Bennett would consider herself a good sister-in a sense that, because she doesn't want her brother to get caught talking to air, she runs into the kitchen, through the kitchen, to the screen door leading to the backyard, shouting, "Mom, I forgot something in the treehouse!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, don't go now, it's dark-hey!" Sophie dashes past her, unlocking the screen door and heading outside in an unfathomable rush. Mrs. Bennett sighs and grabs a flashlight from the kitchen drawer. Before following her daughter, she sees her son in the living room. "Ah, Jamie, keep an eye on the oven for me, please and thank you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No problem," he calls to a slamming screen door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack in already on the couch, taking a nacho from a bowl, not making any means to talk about the current situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie looks down at him from the other side of the couch, knowing he just has to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>". . . I don't know if this is the right thing to do," Jack finally mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said it yourself, you don't wanna work with him anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And I don't, but . . . I'm not about to abandon the kid. Especially with the whole missing winter spirits thing, is it right to just . . ." He's finding it hard to word things, and it's not like Jamie isn't aware of his situation. But he's confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jamie sees that confusion. "Jack?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The winter spirit inhales a deep breath. "If Sophie was potentially in danger, what would do?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd protect her." The answer is immediate, and Jack is stunned-the answer isn't unexpected at all, but would Jack himself be that quick to answer? "Anyway I can. Make her feel safe, let her know I'm there for her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something clogs up Jack's throat; it's hard to speak. There's just so much guilt and it's choking him in seven different ways and that's all it ever comes back to. ". . . What if . . . potentially . . . you were that danger?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there's a flash of alarm in Jamie's eyes. "Are you in danger, Jack?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no," he quickly reassures, then it just falls away: "But . . ."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An idiot could see how conflicted the winter spirit is, so Jamie resigns from trying to get him to talk and tries to say whatever he can to just help: "Sometimes, we just gotta make sacrifices for the ones we care about. If I know anything about you, you're capable of that, and I know you'll do what's right because you know what right is. He needs you. You just . . . need yourself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack's expression (and mental state, for that matter) steadies itself out to something with certainty. He needs you. Yeah, he knows that, and before Jamie could ask, a pillow is smacked into his face. "I don't need emotional support. I need an answer. A plan. To execute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie scrunches his attacked nose and grabs the pillow away from him. "Okay, okay." The kid tries, jeez.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie looks relatively indifferent now, raking his brain for an answer. Then he pauses, smiles a bit at the thought, and looks at Jack. "You stop believing in the moon when the sun comes up?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realization gradually dawns upon the spirit's pale features, and he smacks Jamie's face with another pillow out of glee. "Genius work, Doctor Jamie!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get out of house," is the deadpanned response as he yanks back the second pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turns out that's exactly what he's about to do as he makes his way to the living room window. Jamie stands to bid him off when, from the back, the screen door is slammed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sophie, seriously, you're not little anymore. You're growing up!" is heard from the kitchen, as Sophie sluggishly enters the living room. She huffs her cheeks and widens her eyes, and the aura of the Bennett household is more awkward than it is tense as Mrs. Bennett scolds her about hallucinations in front of a winter spirit. "These imaginary friend games have to stop, there are no pixies in the garden or monsters under your bed! Please, just stop with this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry." Sophie's voice is barely audible, eyes on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Bennett sighs before turning to her son. "Jamie fix the pillows, please, and why do you have the window open? It's freezing for god's sake!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaaamie's in trooouble~" Jack sings, deliberately causing Sophie to giggle. Sophie gets cut eye from her mom as Jack gets cut eye from Jamie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good luck," Jack offers his best friend, amused (and slightly guilty, but they don't talk about that) at Jamie's mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie raises a brow, hand resting on the ledge, a ghost of a smile on his face because, really, Jack's in deeper shit than Jamie ever will be. "You, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamie wants to relieve some of the tension, so he slings Sophie over his shoulder in claims that it's past her bedtime. For the record, their mom isn't a bad mom-being a single parent and all, she's been through her own hell. She just isn't having the best day. And Jamie not watching the oven and burning the chicken really isn't really helping.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>